


wonderland

by andnowforyaya



Series: blue moon pet house series [8]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Butt Plugs, M/M, Master/Pet, Multi, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 21:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16605623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: Singing feels different when you're free.





	wonderland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naerys123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naerys123/gifts).



> For R <3 thanks for bringing this out of my head after so long hehe <3 I hope you like it!
> 
> I struggled with tags so if you have any suggestions or see anything missing, feel free to let me know!

“Sweetheart, let go.”

Kihyun feels Hoseok pulling away and curls his fingers tighter around the fabric of his soft, worn shirt, effectively stalling him. “No,” he whispers petulantly, eyes still closed as he buries his face into his pillow. The covers of their bed wrap around him like a fluffy cloud and he doesn’t want anyone to escape them just yet.

“I have to get ready for work,” Hoseok says with a light laugh. Kihyun feels his fingers carding through his hair carefully, scratching his scalp with the gentlest of touches. He groans as pleasant tingles travel up and down his spine, making him melt further into the mattress. Hoseok hums, and Kihyun can feel the warmth of his smile across his back. “Feels good?”

Kihyun sighs. His muscles ache in the best way after their activities in bed last night, sore and used, shaped and reshaped. He breathes, “I love your hands,” as Hoseok’s fingers travel from his scalp to the base of Kihyun’s neck, kneading the tender muscle there. Kihyun plants his face into his pillow and inhales, relaxing, feeling himself beginning to doze off again.

“I love you,” Hoseok says quietly, and it makes Kihyun’s toes curl. He grins and turns his face to the side, eyelids fluttering open. Hoseok hovers over him, sitting perched on the edge of the mattress, still wearing the soft shirt he wore to sleep and a pair of black boxers. His hair is rumpled and standing up in clumps, and there’s a wrinkle in his cheek from where he slept with his mouth slightly open against his own pillow, body curled around Kihyun’s. Kihyun splays the palm of his hand out over Hoseok’s hip, tucks his fingers under the fabric so he can find warm, smooth skin. He scratches lightly and Hoseok’s breath hitches. “Minx,” Hoseok gasps.

Kihyun giggles. He turns onto his side as Hoseok leans over him, caging him under his arms. Kihyun’s hands come to rest on Hoseok’s hips, rubbing him, squeezing lightly. He can’t get enough of this man. “Give me a kiss before you go,” Kihyun says.

“Just a kiss?”

“A kiss for now,” Kihyun says. “Anything more and you’ll be late for work.”

“And we can’t have that.”

Kihyun shakes his head, closing his eyes and puckering his lips up for the promised kiss. Hoseok laughs again, a breathless sound, and Kihyun feels the weight of the bed shift as he closes the distance between them. Hoseok’s kisses make his whole body feel like light and air, every time. Kihyun hums and grins against his lips, his hands on Hoseok’s hips, not wanting to let go.

But Hoseok pulls back, eyes glittering with adoration. Sometimes Kihyun still can’t believe all that love is directed at him. He flushes under the intensity of it.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” Hoseok says. “If you’re not asleep when I’m done getting ready, I’ll come back for another kiss.”

“I’m awake, I’m awake,” Kihyun says with a laugh. “I’ll stay awake for your kisses.”

“Mm. Yes. Someone has to walk Shrimp.”

“Minhyuk will,” Kihyun says. “He loves Shrimp.”

“I still can’t believe you named her Shrimp.”

Kihyun smiles. “Take it up with Minhyuk.”

“I won’t be doing that,” Hoseok says, expression faltering for a moment. Kihyun notices but doesn’t say anything, instead digging his thumbs gently into Hoseok’s hips. Hoseok inhales deeply as his eyelids flutter. “Stop that, or I won’t be able to leave.”

“Promise?” Kihyun asks.

It makes Hoseok grin like a cat that’s found the best sun-filled spot to lay in for a nap. “I love you so much,” he says.

“I love you, too,” Kihyun returns. “Now get out of here.”

He goes, after another kiss, leaving Kihyun in bed with a flush rising to his cheeks and butterflies in his stomach.

.

As Kihyun emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and skin dewy, Shrimp scratches her little paws at the door, sensing Kihyun is awake behind it. Kihyun throws a towel over his shoulder and ties one around his waist before padding over to the door, careful not to leave puddles in his wake. “Coming, coming,” he coos. Shrimp hears him and yelps in response.

He opens the door to Minhyuk standing on the other side with the tiny chihuahua cradled in one of his arms. “Good morning,” Kihyun breathes, slightly taken aback at Minhyuk's presence.

Minhyuk grins at him, fingers scratching under Shrimp’s chin. The lightly-colored puppy licks at Minhyuk’s fingers and catches the knuckle of one in between her teeth, gnawing gently.

“Morning,” Minhyuk calls. He’s wearing a soft, loose sweater and jeans, and he’s holding Shrimp’s pink leash in one hand.

“Did you already take her out for a walk?”

“I did,” Minhyuk says, nodding, beaming at Kihyun. He leans forward expectantly, and Kihyun sighs and tips up onto his toes to give Minhyuk a peck on his cheek. Minhyuk withdraws, frowning slightly. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Kihyun says, tilting his head and biting down into his bottom lip. He watches Minhyuk watch his lips. “Thank you for doing that, Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk bounces Shrimp in his arms, pouting and stepping into the bedroom. Kihyun gives way and follows, leaving the door wide open. Minhyuk tosses Shrimp onto the bed, and the puppy yelps and bounces before righting herself and turning to look at Minhyuk again -- half in indignation and half in expectation, tiny tail wagging. The blond sits, and Shrimp climbs into his lap and settles in. “Can I stay while you change?”

Kihyun considers him. He turns to his and Hoseok’s shared closet, sliding open the mirrored door and rifling through a couple of sweaters and shirts they have hanging up inside. “You want to watch me dress?”

Minhyuk smacks his lips. “Sure do.”

“Will you behave today at work?”

Minhyuk sighs as Kihyun turns away from the closet. He sees Minhyuk’s eyes roll as he hangs his head back. “Ugh, yes. I suppose I will.”

“No terrorizing Jisoo today,” Kihyun continues. “It’s her third day and we want her to stay.”

“She’s pretty,” Minhyuk says with a plaintive note to his voice, as though that explains everything. Kihyun supposes that for Minhyuk, it does. He likes pretty things and he likes them even better when they’re ruined just a little at the edges. Likes it the most when he’s the one doing the ruining. When enough time passes without Kihyun’s response, Minhyuk concedes. “Fine.”

“Then you can stay,” Kihyun says without hesitation. After what happened in Seoul, after Blue Moon, they came to Busan to find a new life, and Kihyun wanted Hoseok to bring Minhyuk with them. They stayed with at the beach house for a while as Hoseok reoriented himself to life outside of a pet house, and as Kihyun and Minhyuk reoriented themselves to life. Kihyun felt those were days spent as though he were a newborn colt, finding and exploring the world on unsteady feet. He’d go to the beach in the mornings with Hoseok and watch as the world caught fire as the sun rose. He’d go to the gardens with Minhyuk and watch him crumple flower petals into the palms of his hands until they became sticky and wet, like congealed blood. They navigated this world without masters, without collars, together, testing their limits as though they were dipping their toes into unfamiliar waters. Well, Kihyun dipped. Minhyuk wanted to jump, to plunge. So they compromised. In a strange way, Kihyun needed Minhyuk, but he thought maybe Minhyuk needed them more. He’s still not sure if he’s right.

He feels Minhyuk’s gaze on him as he lets the towel drop from his waist. His skin prickles in the cool, chilled air. He pulls a cream sweater off the rack in the closet and holds it against his chest. “What do you think?” He shows Minhyuk.

Minhyuk’s eyes travel the length of his body. He wets his lips. “I like it better off,” he says.

“Can’t go to work naked,” Kihyun quips.

“Not anymore,” Minhyuk returns, quick as lightning, and it makes Kihyun wince. Minhyuk notices, because he sucks in a breath between his teeth, and mutters, “Sorry.”

Kihyun’s not sure if he’s actually sorry, but that’s all right, and he says so. “It’s fine. It’s just a sweater.”

“Do you ever miss it?” Minhyuk asks.

It’s easier not to look at him as Kihyun reflects, remembers. He rifles through the sweaters again, hands stilling on a simple black one with sheer paneling in the sides. “Sometimes,” Kihyun admits. “I miss Hyunwoo-hyung. And the others. Sometimes I miss the rules. They were -- easy to follow and made the world so black and white -- and now things are more… just more. But then I think about what we have now, and I don’t miss it at all.” He pulls the black sweater out and holds it against his body. “What about this?”

Minhyuk pauses, mouth slightly open, staring. Then he grins, scratches with his fingers under Shrimp’s chin. “Yes, that works,” he says finally. “That’s good.”

.

The lounge is quiet tonight. They have a couple of reservations and a handful of walk-ins sitting at the bar as the lights dim and Kihyun walks up to the little stage in one corner of the room. Beside him sitting behind the keys of a refurbished baby grand is their pianist, Youngjae, another transplant from Seoul. He grins at Kihyun when their eyes meet, looking smart in a crisp black shirt and silky, gunmetal tie.

The murmur of conversation begins to die away, though the occasional clinking of silverware still chimes through the small, high-ceilinged room. The lounge comfortably seats 30, the bar 10. Hoseok wanted to keep things small and intimate; when he first broached the idea of opening a lounge to Kihyun, he didn’t mention anything about Kihyun being its main act, but then Hoseok hired on Youngjae, and Kihyun heard him play.

Youngjae starts to play now, fingers gliding almost effortlessly across the black and white keys, drawing out a slow, soulful tune that Kihyun can’t help but hum along to. At the bar, Minhyuk pauses in making a cocktail for a patron and gives Kihyun an encouraging smile.

Kihyun closes his eyes, centering himself with a deep breath, and begins to sing, and the hush that falls over the room almost makes him shiver. He and Youngjae work well together, matching notes and trading trills. Sometimes, Kihyun can hear Youngjae harmonizing with him in a low, husky voice that he wishes he could draw out more, for everyone else to hear, too. Singing feels different when you’re free. He gets lost in the song and doesn’t have to worry about finding his way back.

When he opens his eyes he sees Hoseok gazing at him with what looks like primal hunger near the back wall, arms crossed and eyes dark, fixed on Kihyun. So Kihyun swivels his hips a little bit, takes hold of the mic stand, and croons out a note that he hopes Hoseok can feel in his belly.

When their set is over, the audience claps and whistles, and Kihyun bows sheepishly, still not used to this kind of attention, before gesturing to Youngjae, who stands and bows as well.

“You were great tonight,” he says in Kihyun’s ear, hand gently placed on Kihyun’s lower back.

Kihyun flushes and thanks him. “You were great, too.”

“You better go, though,” Youngjae teases, eyes glinting, “I saw Hoseok giving you that look from all the way across the room.”

Kihyun’s blush deepens across his cheeks as he helps Youngjae move the mic stand to the side of the little stage. “I wish he weren’t so obvious,” Kihyun says, trying to sound flippant.

“No, you don’t.” Youngjae laughs, and Kihyun grins at him. The pianist settles back onto his bench to play another set, without a vocalist. “Just remember you have another set later tonight.”

Kihyun walks off the stage, weaving through tables and shaking the hands of a few of their regulars, who offer him shiny compliments. He makes his way to the bar, where Minhyuk is mixing two of the same cocktails for a pair of young women who just walked in.

“He’s too familiar,” Minhyuk says immediately under his breath. “I don’t like it.”

“Well,” Kihyun says, knowing Minhyuk is talking about Youngjae. He takes a maraschino cherry out of one of the glass containers behind the bar and pops it into his mouth. A burst of sweetness coats his tongue. "That’s not for you to decide, Minhyuk.”

“I’m just saying,” Minhyuk grumbles, pouring a mixture of alcohols and juices into a metal shaker with ice and capping it. He shakes the drink over his shoulder with a flourish, even spinning the container over his hands once or twice. The women watch him with fascination.

“He’s nice,” Kihyun says. “Actually, I think the two of you would get along really well, if only you’d let him.”

“We’ll see,” Minhyuk acquiesces, which means he won’t try at all until he figures out if there's something Youngjae can give him that he can’t get anywhere else.

Minhyuk pours the drinks into martini glasses over a globe of hard ice, and garnishes the drinks with a twist of lime. He hands it over to the two young women with a dazzling smile, and in return they pay and give him a generous tip before moving further down the bar, closer to the stage.

“Where’s Hoseok?” Kihyun asks him.

“He was in the kitchen. Something was wrong with the way the carrots were done this time, so he’s going to make sure they don’t mess it up for the next show.”

“Will you be okay out here?”

Minhyuk rolls his eyes at him. That’s twice in one day. Kihyun feels himself grin. “Yes, I’ll be fine alone at the bar,” Minhyuk says with a huff. “Won’t burn anything down while you get intimate -- promise.”

.

Hoseok isn’t in the kitchen, though their head chef and line cooks are in there already busily prepping for the next set and slew of orders that will accompany it. Kihyun thanks them for their hard work and moves on, to Hoseok’s little office right next to the kitchen, where he runs his numbers that keep their lounge going. Once, Kihyun asked if it was like running a pet house, and Hoseok had held him close and said, “It is, and it isn’t. Here, I know everyone can come and go as they please. And that includes you.”

Here, in their lounge in a sleepy part of Busan, there’s no Oversight or registry. It’s just them and their staff and a piano and a microphone. Good food and good drinks. And waiting for them, a bed to sleep in together and a tiny little puppy appropriately named Shrimp.

Kihyun opens the door to the office to find Hoseok poring over a list of numbers on his tablet. He looks up at the intrusion, and Kihyun shrinks back before he can help himself.

“Baby,” Hoseok says, holding his hand out to him, and the single word brushes over Kihyun like the warm flare of a fire. “Come in. What are you doing here? Do you need something?”

Kihyun closes the door and the sounds of the diners and patrons and Youngjae’s piano becomes muted. “Just missed you,” Kihyun admits, because he doesn’t really need anything from Hoseok right now, but he wants to surprise him.

Hoseok swivels in his seat to face him, thighs splayed, lips curled. “Come here, then.”

Kihyun goes to him, straddles him in his seat, and Hoseok groans in satisfaction under his weight. His hands reach out to cup Kihyun under his ass cheeks, and he kneads the muscle there lightly. Kihyun shudders in a breath, rolling his hips and burying his face into Hoseok’s neck, breathing in his sharp, musky cologne.

“What’s this?” Hoseok asks. “So sensitive today?”

“Have a surprise for you,” Kihyun whispers against his skin, rolling his hips again as Hoseok continues to massage him, play with him. He wants Hoseok’s fingers to brush him there, for Hoseok to find what he’s prepared for him.

“And it’s not even my birthday,” Hoseok says. “You’re too good to me, baby. What’s my present?”

“Hm.” Kihyun pretends to think even as he shudders against Hoseok, against his big warm hands. “Better unwrap me to find out.”

Hoseok does, carefully and slowly. He peels Kihyun out of his sweater and rubs his palms up and down Kihyun’s soft sides. He helps Kihyun out of his tight, black pants and lets him settle back in a straddle over his thighs before dipping his hands under the waistband of Kihyun’s black briefs and cupping his ass cheeks again, this time with skin on skin. It burns hot and good. He squeezes hard and Kihyun jerks against Hoseok’s chest, gasping. His hands continue to roam and knead as Kihyun pants hot breaths against Hoseok’s neck, and then finally his thumb brushes over the base of the plug stuffed into Kihyun’s hole.

“Oh,” Hoseok groans, finding it and brushing his fingers over it again and again. The plug moves inside of Kihyun and he can’t help but squirm and push back against Hoseok’s hand. “My beautiful baby,” Hoseok breathes like a prayer.

“Surprise,” Kihyun manages to whimper.

“Did you perform with this inside?” Hoseok asks. He tugs at the plug, pulling it until the swell of the base catches against Kihyun’s rim, and Kihyun jerks again, sensitive, skin tight. His dick presses against the elastic of his briefs.

“Mmhm,” Kihyun hums.

“You looked so good up there,” Hoseok says, praising him, pushing the plug back in, then pulling it back out just until the widest part tugs against Kihyun. Stretching him. “You always look so good. What should I do with this present?”

“Fuck me,” Kihyun says, and Hoseok sucks in a breath.

“Should I?” he teases. The plug stills and Kihyun groans, pushing back and swallowing it up again, frustrated. “I like watching you fuck yourself, though. You’re so, so pretty.”

The compliments go right to Kihyun’s dick. He grinds back against the plug, wanting more, moaning when Hoseok pushes it in as deep as it will go before pulling it out completely. With Hoseok’s help, he slips the briefs to the side so that his dick, wet at the tip already, can bounce against his belly, and then Hoseok is unbuttoning and unzipping, undressing just enough to pull out his cock so that Kihyun can sit on it.

Or try to. It rubs and Kihyun winces, pulling off of him and letting himself rest against Hoseok’s chest. “More lube,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” Hoseok says, taking some out of his desk drawer quickly. The second time around the glide is smooth and hot, and Kihyun almost sits back hard enough to lose balance and topple over out of his seat. But Hoseok catches him behind his shoulders and holds him close, pumping his hips slowly. “Good?” he asks.

“So good,” Kihyun moans. He starts to bounce, and the chair creaks under him. Hoseok digs his fingers into his hip points hard enough to bruise, and Kihyun loves it. Love him. He smashes their lips together and kisses him deep and thorough as they rut together in this little office that is theirs. Everything here is theirs. Everything of Kihyun is his. Kihyun is filled with such feeling he can barely describe it, but he knows what it is, what it means. “Love you,” Kihyun says when he pulls away for a breath.

“Love you,” Hoseok gasps. He throws his arms around Kihyun’s narrow waist and pumps his hips a few more times before climaxing with a groan, and with a few practiced pulls and twist of his wrist, Kihyun follows him shortly after.

He ruins Hoseok’s shirt with his release.

“Sorry,” Kihyun murmurs, sheepishly swiping his hand through the substance in an attempt to clean it but only managing to smear it around some more.

“I love you,” Hoseok says, kissing Kihyun on the forehead and then on the lips. “And I have more shirts.”

.

Their second set is a bit rowdier than the first. It’s later in the evening, and people arrive with more drinks in their systems, on average. Kihyun is used to this, and after his set, he goes to the bar to help Minhyuk with drinks.

“I take it Hoseok liked his present,” Minhyuk surmises when they have a lull in thirsty customers. He starts stacking some of the dirty glasses into a tray to be taken into the kitchen for cleaning as Kihyun cuts up more lime and lemon wedges at the bar.

Kihyun grins cheekily at him. “He did.”

“Do you still call him Master?” Minhyuk quirks an eyebrow pointedly.

“Only sometimes,” Kihyun says, carefully tamping down on the feeling the word elicits inside of him, like needles prickling at his skin. “When I want to.”

“Hm.” Minhyuk juts out his bottom lip in a pout at being unable to rile Kihyun up and gets back to work.

Youngjae begins his last set at the piano when the door opens and a group of three men walk into the lounge wearing fine suits and expressions on their faces like they’d just been served trash on their dinner plates. They stride to the bar, ignoring Jisoo as she approaches them to see if they’d like to take a seat with the other diners.

“Hello,” Kihyun says as they find empty stools at the bar, shooting Jisoo a put-upon smile. “Just drinks tonight, gentlemen?”

“That’s right,” one of them says. He looks familiar, but Kihyun can’t place him. It makes his gut churn, and he looks to Minhyuk, who has stopped what he was doing to narrow his eyes at the men.

“What’ll you be having?” Kihyun says, trying to keep his voice steady. He’s not sure why these men are getting to him so quickly. Maybe it’s the way they’re looking at him like he’s a piece of savory steak.

“Can we have you?” the tallest one jokes. Kihyun forces a laugh out of his mouth.

“Sorry. Not on the menu,” he quips, hoping they'll get the message.

They don't.

“Shame,” the tallest one continues. “You’d look good served on a platter. Wouldn’t he?” He turns to his friends, and they nod and chortle in agreement. Kihyun feels his blood run cold as the familiar knot of needles settles in his gut. “Would look good wearing a collar.”

And Kihyun remembers the auction, the house on top of the hotel, the champagne spilling over his hands and thighs. Master and slave, blindfolds and chains. He remembers gold eyeliner and leather and the words he said that meant nothing. Red light, red light, _red light_ \--

Minhyuk’s hand on his lower back, his presence at his side. “Is there a problem?” Minhyuk asks, tone gentle. In his other hand, he’s holding the little knife that Kihyun was using to slice the lemons and limes. How'd he get that?

Kihyun breathes out and in, out and in. He’s not going back, not physically, and not mentally if he can help it. He thinks of Hoseok, the beach, Minhyuk’s hand on his back. He says, “So sorry, but we don’t tolerate that kind of talk here, and we won’t be able to serve you gentlemen tonight. You’ll have to go somewhere else.”

Confusion quickly turns into anger, frowns into scowls. The tallest one scoffs. “You can’t be serious. We’re joking, honey.”

“I’m serious,” Kihyun says, steadfast and resolute. Minhyuk stands by him, still as stone. The three men look at each other, then at Kihyun and Minhyuk, then back at each other, unable to believe what’s happening. Kihyun thinks that makes sense; they’ve probably never been denied anything they’ve wanted in their lives -- education, jobs, wine, sex. His hands curl into fists next to his sides. “Please leave the premises,” Kihyun says. “Or we can have someone escort you out.”

They scoff again, but one of them must catch the look on Minhyuk’s face and the knife in his hands and so he stands, turning away and fixing the lapels of his suit. “Let’s go. This place is trash, anyway,” he grumbles, gesturing to his little entourage.

They watch the men go, and only when the doors close behind him can Kihyun breathe again, slumping against Minhyuk, who reciprocates so they both don’t fall to the floor.

“They said--”

“I heard what they said,” Minhyuk says, hushed and fast. “Assholes.”

“They’ll be upset,” Kihyun says, starting to spiral. “They’ll come back. They’ll be angry and upset. With me. With Hoseok.”

“Hey.” Minhyuk holds his wrist tight, squeezes, and it’s enough for Kihyun to ground back into himself, into his senses. “You’re fine. You did the right thing. And Hoseok would be proud of you.” He squeezes again and gives his wrist a shake. “...I’m proud, too,” he admits begrudgingly. “Now, come on, you stack and I’ll slice.”

He gestures with the knife tip for them to switch places so that Kihyun doesn’t have to face the customers, to give him time to regroup. It’s more than enough. Kihyun pulls him in to wrap his arms around his waist in a hug. “Thank you for that.”

“We take care of each other,” Minhyuk says. His arms come up around Kihyun more slowly. Thankfully, it’s because he needs to put the knife down first. “That’s our game.”

“Yes,” Kihyun says, breathing in Minhyuk's scent, his warmth. “It is.”

.

They go back together at around 3 in the morning after closing up the lounge. Minhyuk takes Shrimp out for a late night walk, and Kihyun and Hoseok hop into the shower together to get ready for bed. Sometimes Minhyuk will be back for the evening and sometimes he won’t. They’ve learned not to question him on this too much.

Tonight, though, Kihyun hopes Minhyuk comes back. Because as he and Hoseok climb into bed together, and as he curls against Hoseok and lays his head on his chest so that he can hear his heart thumping under his ear, he wants more. He wants Minhyuk on his other side, to be sandwiched between the two people who are the most important to him in the world.

“Good night,” Hoseok whispers to him, flicking the lights off and throwing them into darkness. It takes a moment for Kihyun’s eyes to adjust to the dim, metallic glow of the moon.

“Good night,” he whispers back, kissing him once on the lips. Hoseok’s arms feel like home. And he rolls onto his side so that there’s space behind him on the bed for Minhyuk to slip in, too.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated. I'm on twitter @andnowforyaya too!
> 
> Some headcanons:  
> 1\. The lounge is called Wonderland :)  
> 2\. Minhyuk saw shrimp and was like HAHA HER FACE IS LIKE HYUNGWON'S WHEN HE JUST WAKES UP. And hyungwon's favorite food is shrimp. So he thought it was perfect.


End file.
